


Of Ash and Dust

by PrinceParrots



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceParrots/pseuds/PrinceParrots
Summary: An apocalyptic au for some characters belonging to me and a few friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Temmie's P.O.V

Artemis often found herself lost in the past. Her dreams when not flooded by torrents of ash or ravenous fangs brought back memories of playing games on cold floors with her sisters. Their giggles and joyous screeches echoed in her head until she forced her body upright and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

That particular dream left her with an empty joy. Her sisters calling her “Temmie” and scolding her for her childish antics had been an annoyance in the past and yet as the days went on she felt more nostalgic about it than anything else. At the time she’d loathed the name as much as their demands for her to hurry up and start acting like an adult. Though nowadays she found she’d much rather have her sisters continue to pester her with a brutal butchering of her birth name than face another day in an empty, dusty, and dark house alone. So in their honor, she found she missed being called Temmie and continued to refer to herself as such.

She swung her legs over the edge of her bed, the old boxsprings groaning under her weight before she stood. The beaten mattress sighed in relief and she shuffled out of the bedroom, peering around each corner before entering a new room at every turn. The windows rattled, her boarded front door slapping against the frame as the wind pushed and pulled at it, creating an incessant knocking. Temmie had since learned not to answer the rapping at the door. It was only ever the wind and it never brought anything other than unbearable heat and ash. She glared at the door, watching it shift ever so slightly back and forth, that awful jittering of the doorknob which had a habit of falling off and the slapping of wood on wood made her ball her fists and grit her teeth. If the isolation of her bunker didn’t drive her insane first, she’d been sure it would have been that door. Every so often she still had a quiet thought in the back of her mind, conjured by her solitude. 

What if there _is_ someone at the door? 

She shook her head, sending one last dirty look to the old door before making her way to her kitchen; which was really just storage space for canned goods since her oven, fridge, and stove stopped working years prior and she had neither the electricity nor the knowledge to fix them. She pried open a cabinet which had finally sent the door clattering to the floor with a loud bang. She jumped back, pulling her hands away and staring wide eyed down at the fallen wood. Her gaze slowly shifted to her empty cupboard where a few cockroaches skittered around before vanishing into crevices in the wall. She frowned, eyebrows knit close together. She could have sworn she still had at least one can of beans or maybe corn laying around. She shuffled about the kitchen, pulling open every cabinet only to find the same empty shelves in each one.

Temmie heaved a sigh, trudging out of the kitchen to stare at the front door once more. Still it knocked, beckoning for her to open it. She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the idea. Eventually she closed her eyes, resting her head against the doorway, marveling in the cool feeling against her forehead. She took a deep breath, biting back tears at every childhood memory that flooded her mind. She chewed her lip, standing straight again and pushing away from the wall. She wiped her eyes and steeled her nerves, walking forward and turning the numerous locks on the door before tugging it open, being welcomed by a strong gust of dirt and ash.

* * *

It had been weeks or maybe months since Temmie last felt the sun. The windows had always remained tightly sealed and blocked to keep out the sun’s heat and the airborne debris that made her chest and head hurt.

Since before she’d been born, the world had been on fire. 

Her family went in shifts to gather supplies. Most days they’d come back with a few more cans of food or bottles of water. Every so often her older sisters would show up with a new toy or paper to draw on or fold. But slowly over the years and usually one by one, they’d all just stopped returning. Leaving Temmie to an empty house and a loud head. She’d never been allowed outside of the house, the air quality having always been too poor to be outside for more than necessary; or so she’d been told. The day her older sister Skylar left and didn’t return marked the day Temmie had to learn to fend for herself. 

Still the sun soaked her back in sweat and the dust in the air made her eyes sting. She pedaled down the empty suburban streets, her purple bike having lost most of its handlebar streamers long ago. The few remaining ones flitted about in the wind, protesting against the beatings they received from the flying dirt flecks. She lifted one hand, wobbling slightly as she hugged the fabric closer to her mouth and nose. Even through her makeshift mask, derived from an old tanktop, she still tasted ash that dried her lips and had her rewetting them every few seconds. The ride out of town to find the less scavenged grocery outlets was roughly two hours but Temmie passed the time by examining her surroundings and imagining what the suburbs used to look like. From her picture books she imagined bright green grass where patches of dirt and stones stood, a lush tree of golden yellows and deep greens instead of the barren twigs sitting atop the thick trunk. She liked to imagine dogs running around, barking and playing with kind people, rather than the hairless beasts that growled and fought over even a crumb of bread. Even when she’d left the cozy suburbs she imagined the empty desert into lush fields filled with rolling grass, trees, and all sorts of life.

Quietly she wished she could have seen the world before it burned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temmie meets a stranger. Please don't take shady southern men home from decrepit bars, kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan P.O.V

Morgan’s entire day had gone to shit. 

He lost most of his possessions, all his food, and just about all his sanity. 

Though to be fair, getting separated from his two cousins and their hooligan friends had been admittedly, quite a blessing. How the two managed to survive the wastelands long enough to see the age of twenty eluded him, though he shoved the thought from his mind just as fast as it had appeared. His chest hurt suddenly and nausea crept up on him when he thought about the two.

Still, as it stood, Morgan was right back to square one. No friends. No family. Almost no supplies. He’d wandered the desert for a while, looking for a far enough place that would be unlikely to have been raided already, though he kept his hand firmly on the knife on his outer thigh the whole time. He hadn’t actually come across anyone on the old country highway but the blood red sun and orange sky overhead did nothing to ease his nerves. The mask over his nose and mouth didn’t disguise the taste of dirt and ash either. 

Eventually he’d stumbled across an abandoned bar, decrepit and sad in its old state. He’d only managed a passing glance at the sign posted out front, worn and missing letters, reading something along the lines of _“Blackfish Bar and Grill”_ but it had been hard to read between the dust clouds and the ancient sign having fallen apart over the years, beaten down by the relentless elements. He ducked in, stealing a glance at his surroundings beforehand and stalking into the deserted bar. Quickly he switched his eyepatch from his left to the right eye, immediately taking in the room through the dark. Chairs and tables lay strewn about, all coated in a layer of ash and dust. Some had since fallen apart, worn by mold and the occasional desperate animal trying to find something at least mildly edible. Broken glass littered the floor, crunching under his heavy boots as he made his way to the large bar in the back of the room, leaning over the counter to eye the shelves of liquor. Most of the bottles had been broken or were missing, though there were enough half full and some unopened bottles to satisfy him.

* * *

The sound of the door swinging open and slamming against the wall merely piqued Morgan’s interest. He turned his head ever so slightly, peering through his good eye toward the entrance to the bar. One hand lowered, fingertips dancing over the hilt of his knife, though he still remained lax and confident, sipping the last of a bottle of whiskey. 

He raised an eyebrow at the sight of a young woman stumbling in, coughing and wheezing. She shut the door behind her and ripped the fabric from her face, gasping as she slid down to the floor with her back pressed against the door. Morgan eyed her a moment longer, noting her pastel yet bright purple skirt and childish tee shirt which adorned a picture of a cat saying “you’re pawsome!” He nearly gagged at the sight. Afterward he decided his plan of action would not be to introduce himself; but to instead sit still and hope she didn’t notice his presence. 

He grimaced when he heard a gasp which was soon followed by a nervous “hi there.” He took another drink, setting the bottle down and rasping out a disgruntled “hey” in response. He listened as light feet padded a few paces forward, staring straight ahead of him at the liquor shelves instead of the girl.

“So.” She drawled. “What’s got you all the way out here?”

Morgan rolled his eyes, debating with himself on humoring her with a response or not. His mind wandered back to his two younger cousins, both having similarly friendly and outgoing demeanors to the girl. While some strange feeling pulled at his heart, he still frowned, reminding himself instead of how much he loathed the two to distract himself from the tightness in his chest. “An’ how’s that any of yer business?” He could almost hear her dissatisfaction but still, she shuffled closer.

“How about that weather out there?” She let out a low whistle, taking a few more steps forward. “Pretty crazy wind kicked up, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, taking another drink. 

“I’m Temmie. What’s your name?”

By then she'd reached just behind Morgan’s chair, her brown locks brushing his shoulder as she leaned over to get a look at him. He huffed, moving his chair back and finally facing Temmie. She beamed, overly friendly and ever so slowly chipping away at Morgan’s protective walls. Like an eroding cliff face against the sea. “Morgan. Whaddaya want from me?”

Her smile faltered for only a moment. “It’s Temmie, and I just noticed you sitting there all alone and I thought maybe you wanted someone to talk to. You don’t meet many people out here.”

“Bullshit,” he drank again. “Seen loads of people out. Surviving ain’t all that ‘ard.” He paused, scrunching his nose. “ _My_ name is Morgan.” He reiterated. 

“Oh. Well I haven’t seen anyone in months myself.” She chuckled though it didn’t sound at all happy. “The last person I’ve seen was my sister- Skylar- and she’s been gone for a while now. Maybe it’s been a year? I’m not sure.” She smiled awkwardly, bouncing on her heels. She swallowed hard, looking around the room and clearly awaiting a response. “So do you travel with anyone? Since you said there’s a lot of people out I can’t imagine choosing to go it alone.”

Morgan shrugged. “Used to. Don’t now.” He offered no further explanation, mentally urging Temmie to leave him be already. She had an air of persistence which she followed through with, going as far as to plop herself into the stool next to him, her wide eyes gazing up at Morgan. He frowned, eyeing her and twisting his fingers around his knife again. 

“How come you’re alone now?”

He lowered the near empty bottle from his lips, sighing as it thudded against the old wooden bartop. “You ask too many questions, kid.”

She pouted, her bottom lip sticking out past the top. “I’ll have you know I’m twenty four years old, thank you very much.”

Morgan’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, staring down at the shorter woman in bewilderment. “Twenny? And yer this friendly? It’s dangerous to go talking to a stranger out in the middle o’ nowhere.”

“In a shotty bar, no less?” She offered, leaning in closer. “You seem nice to me. I’m pretty good at telling who’s a good person, despite looks. If I do say so myself that is.”

Morgan hummed, turning away from her to stare forward again. “You’re naive.” He enunciated.

“I call it hospitable.” He felt his lip twitch upward in the smallest hint of a grin at her sharp tongue. She leaned over the counter, scanning the shelves before she sat back again with a huff. “No food here, huh?”

“People typically don’t go to bars fer the food. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Do you know where to find any? I ran out.”

He side eyed Temmie again, looking her up and down. “Possibly.” He took a long drink, swirling the amber liquid around in the bottle. “From what I heard, there should be a little town just about a mile north o’ here. Might be able to find someone willing to trade fer food.”

Temmie deflated, letting out a puff of air akin to a horse. “I was hoping I’d find canned stuff in some old grocer somewhere. I don’t have much. I left it all in my bunker.”

Morgan’s interest piqued and he sat back in the barstool, giving Temmie a skeptical look. “You bunkered?”

“Well duh,” she grinned. “How else am I supposed to escape the heat and the dust?”

“How did you find a stable shelter that doesn’t collapse under storm season?”

She tilted her head to the side, arms clasped neatly behind her back. “Storm season? That doesn’t really happen around here I don’t think. Either way, I didn’t find it myself. I’ve lived in the same house since before I could remember,” she nodded to herself. “We could go back there and grab a few things and then head north.”

“That’s a very royal we.” Morgan chided.

“Well, wouldn’t you rather have somebody to go get food with than be all alone?”

Morgan scowled, though he did consider the idea. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to go off alone with a stranger?”

“Ah, ah!” Temmie shoved a finger in Morgan’s chest, a sly grin splitting across her face. Morgan backed away, noticing her dimples and round face and questioning just how she managed to look like both a mom and a child at the same time. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done so already.”

He deadpanned, rolling his eyes and standing, Temmie stumbling back a bit under his much larger frame. “What if I’m just luring you into a false sense o’ security?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression reading _checkmate._

Temmie shook her head. “Then you wouldn’t have told me that, silly. Come on Morgo, you don’t want to be alone.”

By some magic he found his feet moving forward, following in tow as Temmie turned and made her way out of the establishment.

He shoved the door open and his hands went to his pockets after tugging his fabric mask back over his face and switching his eyepatch back over. He watched Temmie prance around the side of the building, skipping and humming as she went. Soon enough her head poked around the corner again, all smiles despite the wind battering her face. “Behold! My ride!” From around the corner she led a lavender bicycle, presenting it proudly, her chest puffed out and a wide smile on her face as she motioned to the bike with a flourish. Glittery handlebar streamers flitted about in the wind, highlighting the holographic puppy and kitten stickers littered along the bike frame. The only thing that told him it wasn’t a child’s bike was the size and lack of training wheels and even then he found himself skeptical. Temmie patted the metal rack above the rear wheel. “Hop on!”

Morgan could feel his eye twitch. “There’s no way in hell I'm ridin’ that.”

Temmie rolled her eyes. “Would you rather walk your way back to the house? It was an hour long bike ride from there to here.”

“You’ll get me on that goddamn thing when I’m good an' dead.”

* * *

“Did you know the sky used to be blue? Not grey or orange or red like it is now.” Temmie shouted against the wind, tilting and weaving from the left to the right side of the road. Morgan held the thin metal rack beneath him like a vice, his knuckles going white as he wobbled on the back of her bike, his legs splayed to both keep balance and catch himself if he fell. 

“Really?” He called back, more so focused on the ground rushing by him than her fun facts. He swallowed thickly, almost yelping when the steel toe of one of his boots grazed the ground. He did glance at the sky, the scarlet sun high overhead, illuminating the morning sky with a hazy brown-orange. He tried to imagine it as blue. “I seen it brown sometimes.”

“Yeah! Also trees were super green and there was tons of bright plants all over the place! Yellow dandelions, red roses, blue violets!” She swerved wildly again in her excitement and Morgan had half a mind to jump off the back and run before he got strung along with her for too much longer. Come to think of it, he wasn’t entirely sure just why he’d agreed to join her. Maybe the thought of a free meal was too much of a draw. “Oh what I’d do to see a rose. Some people keep them like pets still. But I’ve never seen them growing around in the wild. Well, I haven’t seen much of the wild really.”

Truth be told, Morgan didn’t know what a rose was. Nor a violet. “Shouldn’t a violet be violet?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he cared.

“That’s not what the storybooks say! Don’t you know? Roses are red, violets are blue.”

“Yer bike is shit and I want to die ‘cause I’m ridin’ it wit’ you?” He spat.

“See! You know the poems. I’ll show you my books when we get home.”

Morgan hummed, wondering if he’d even get there in one piece. “I’ll fix it fer you. Roses are red, violets are _violet._ Temmie should really, sometimes stay quiet.”

“Morgan!”


End file.
